


Drawn To Darkness

by Lunar_Lunacy



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Criminal!Edward, Eventual Fluff, Journalist!Oswald, M/M, Oswald doesn't have his leg injury yet, Oswald hasn't been corrupted yet, Oswald is nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunar_Lunacy/pseuds/Lunar_Lunacy
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot is an aspiring author and low level journalist, a law abiding citizen of Gotham who does his best to make others happy despite his own internal suffering. One evening, on his walk home, Oswald discovers Edward Nygma, the notorious criminal mastermind known as The Riddler, severely injured in a grimy alleyway. Despite his better judgement, Oswald takes pity on the man that fascinates him who is often the subject of his newspaper articles, and makes it his mission to help The Riddler and nurse him back to health. Oswald discovers his true self with Edward's help along the way.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Drawn To Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> The rating is mature due to the fact I will be writing graphic violence in future chapters eventually that is typical to Gotham's canon. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> Future chapters will hopefully be longer.

It was front page news. Oswald was standing on a street corner next to the news-stand he had purchased the Gotham Gazette from, his eyes widening with shock as he read the headline: ‘The Riddler Escapes Arkham Asylum.’ Edward Nygma was notorious, and everyone knew who the man was. Not a single person who dwelled within Gotham City was ignorant of The Riddler, which was the name the madman insisted everyone address him as. He was classified as a sociopathic, narcissistic, egomaniac, and was possibly the most well-known criminal mastermind in Gotham. Everyone knew him to be quite insane, which is why the man had been sent to Arkham Asylum opposed to Blackgate Penitentiary, but people also knew that Edward Nygma was a genius, with a high intellect that was enough to rival the brilliant mind of the inventor and scientist Lucius Fox of Wayne Enterprises. The Riddler was infamous for brewing up schemes so elaborate and deliberate that it left people utterly confused and scratching their heads while simultaneously shaking with fear. Oswald had documented each and every crime the man committed, as was his sacred duty as an aspiring author and a journalist. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Oswald had always been intrigued with The Riddler, finding his intricate schemes to be quite interesting. He often wondered how Mr. Nygma came up with such twisted ideas to begin with, and how he executed them so flawlessly, his plans often going well without a hitch. He wondered how the mechanisms worked on the contraptions The Riddler created, and what exactly the materials he used were. Yes, he feared Edward Nygma just as the general public did, but he also found himself captivated by the criminal, the darkness around him and his unique take on crime fascinated him. Not to mention, Edward Nygma was quite good looking, especially when in that dark green suit. Oswald had an unhealthy obsession with the man, and he knew he ought to give it up, find someone or something else to focus his stories on, but he couldn’t help it. The Riddler was just so intriguing. Oswald found himself constantly writing articles on his theories of Edward Nygma’s endeavors and not much else, enjoying the thrill of finding a good story within The Riddler's exploits. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed he didn’t get to write of The Riddler breaking out of Arkham Asylum first, but he was at a disadvantage of being a low-level journalist with no connections. One day that would change, but for now, he did all he could, using the resources at his disposal to his advantage, despite them being rather limited. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath in, and shaking his head as if to recollect his thoughts, Oswald rolled up the newspaper and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. He had a long walk home, and it was nearly sunset. The chances of running into a criminal, Edward Nygma or otherwise, after dark was high, and he didn’t want to risk getting mugged in the street and having to hear his mother fuss over him and worry about him. He didn’t want to keep her waiting, as he knew she was expecting a call from him as soon as he got home to his apartment. Ever since he recently moved out to live on his own, his mother constantly worried about him, and insisted he call her every day to check in and so she could ensure his safety and make sure he was alright. Truth be told, Oswald was starting to find it tiresome, but endearing all the same. His mother had always looked after him, and he appreciated how much she cared about him, but he would like to be a bit less smothered. Oh well, it was a small price to pay for her love and affection he supposed. She was all Oswald really had, and without her, he didn’t know what he’d do. He had Detective Jim Gordon as a friend, but truth be told, he sometimes didn't know if the man actually liked him. If he pondered on it too long, Oswald found his mood deflated, so he tried his best not to think too much about it. 

Turning down a dark and grimy alleyway that Oswald knew to be a shortcut, he gaped in astonishment as he saw a figure laying on the gritty pavement; a tall, lanky man with ivory skin that contrasted his slicked back raven hair and stunning dark brown eyes that glittered like dark pools of black water in the artificial lights shining down upon his face. His cheekbones were sharp and pronounced, along with his jawline, which seemed capable of cutting through bone. He appeared to be wearing a blue sweater and black jeans, along with black and white sneakers. It had taken a moment for Oswald to register who it was due to the fact that the man was not wearing his iconic green suit, but there was no mistaking it. It was none other than Edward Nygma himself. He appeared to have a large gash in his leg, and was bleeding profusely, his blood soaking his black jeans. “Riddler?” He asked, voice shaky. He blinked rapidly, unsure on whether this was just a mirage, a figment of his wild imagination. Oswald determined that this was indeed real, and that Edward Nygma was actually in front of him. He was stunned into silence, dreading the response from the criminal as he bit down on his lower lip. 

Edward looked up at Oswald, his dark eyes pleading. “Help me,” he croaked, grimacing at the pain in his leg as he applied pressure to the wound with his hand in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “Please.” 

Oswald bit the inside of his cheek as he debated what to do. Should he call the police? He knew they were actively searching for the Arkham escapee, and it would be the right thing to do, as an outstanding citizen of Gotham. The streets would be safer with one less criminal lurking about on them, and yet, Oswald couldn’t bring himself to turn The Riddler in. He looked so pitiful lying there on rough pavement of the filthy alleyway, like a helpless, wounded animal in need of rescuing. It didn’t help that Edward was looking at him with such desperation, completely at his mercy. Oswald couldn’t just let the man bleed out, unable to defend himself. Gotham was a dangerous place. If the police didn’t find him, someone else would, and Edward could potentially be dead by morning. Infamous criminal or not, Edward’s blood would be on his hands. He didn’t know if he would be able to live with himself if anything dreadful were to happen to Edward knowing full well he could have prevented it from happening by showing a bit of kindness and compassion despite Edward’s nefarious deeds. Besides, maybe he could befriend the man and convince him the destructive path he was on was not the answer, and convince him there was a better way. At the very least, he hoped that by helping him that Edward would in return never harm him in one of his games that he often roped civilians into. Perhaps he’d even get to have a private interview. Even if he never got the chance to publish it, it would be a nice keepsake to have.

Pondering his options for a few more moments, Oswald finally gave in, Edward’s hopeful and pleading look on his countenance along with Oswald’s bleeding heart persuading him to help the outlaw. He walked briskly over towards the criminal, wasting no time as he offered him his hand before he could change his mind and turn tail. 

Edward took Oswald’s outstretched hand, gritting his teeth as Oswald gently pulled him up onto his feet. “Thank you,” he spoke breathlessly, voice laced with gratitude.

Taken aback by the unexpected thanks, Oswald didn’t trust himself to speak and simply nodded. He gently guided Edward to put his arm around his waist, which the criminal did after a brief moment of hesitation, clinging tightly to Oswald as though he was his lifeline, which in a way, he was. “Can you walk?” Oswald asked softly.

“I can try,” Edward grunted, taking a step forward and hissing from the pain. His features twisted into a harsh grimace. “Though it may be difficult given my current predicament.” 

Oswald bit his lip, trying to think of his options and if there was another way he could transport Mr. Nygma to his apartment without forcing the crippled man to walk. He could perhaps attempt to carry the criminal, though he lacked strength in his upper body. It was worth a shot anyhow. He couldn’t bear to see the man in agony with every step he took. Besides, this shortcut he was taking would shave a good chunk of time off his trip to his apartment. If he moved quickly, he could still get back before dark. He just needed to stick to less populated areas in order to avoid detection, as anyone seeing him carrying Edward would inevitably have questions, and would most likely call the police. “Would you be opposed to me carrying you?” He inquired awkwardly, giving the man a nervous smile. “Assuming I’m able to, of course.”

A chuckle sounded from Edward, and it startled Oswald a little. It was a good-natured laugh, not one of malice like the one The Riddler used while carrying out his heinous crimes. “Be my guest,” the criminal replied gruffly, a twinkle of amusement lurking in his dark eyes currently glossed over from his agonizing pain. “I shouldn’t be that heavy. You shouldn’t have too much trouble.”

With the verbal consent and encouragement, Oswald gave a curt nod before gently picking Edward up, carrying him bridal style in his arms as he ventured back towards his apartment at a quick pace, but not one so fast as to jolt the injured man in his arms. The Riddler had been right, he didn't weigh too much, and Oswald felt carrying him to be doable, albeit rather strange. Not once did Oswald ever think he'd meet Edward Nygma in person, let alone carry him back to his apartment in a feeble rescue attempt. Yet here he was, risking everything to save a criminal. If his mother knew, she'd be incredibly disappointed in him. He would never hear the end of it, and he knew she’d be extremely worried about him. 

Oswald’s eyes widened as the sudden realization his mother would be expecting his call soon dawned upon him. He needed to hurry home and pick up the pace, not only so he could call her to assure her he was safe, but also because the longer he remained on the streets with The Riddler in his arms the higher the risk grew of him being caught by either a civilian or worse, a police officer. A cold chill went up Oswald’s spine at the thought of being caught and he shuddered a little, increasing his speed to walk as quickly as he could without jostling he was carrying and making his injury worse. 

“Are you doing alright Mr. Nygma?” Oswald asked quietly as he moved through the back alleyways of Gotham’s filthy streets. His eyes darted back and forth as he scanned for signs of life, praying that they would not stumble across anyone, friendly or not, on the way back to his apartment. Various garbage littered the sides of the alleyways, cans and papers scattered about everywhere. Oswald avoided it like the plague, finding it to be quite revolting. It was a good thing that he had Edward when he did. The wound on his leg would have gotten infected if he had been left in these abysmal alleyways for too long. He grimaced, face twisting into an expression of disgust as he thought of Mr. Nygma’s leg oozing with pus. Oswald quickly schooled his expression back into a calm one however, not wanting to alarm The Riddler or put further stress on him. He knew the man was probably stressed enough, trusting a stranger to help him when he had plenty of enemies lurking about the streets of Gotham that wanted him dead.

“F-fine,” Edward mumbled in reply, his expression dazed. There was a hazy look in his dark eyes, which appeared to be staring off into space, not looking at any object in particular. “I-I’m fine. I just need rest.” He gave a weak-sounding chuckle, a raspy sound in his chest. Edward seemed to be quite out of it, Oswald concluding that the haze the man appeared to be in was due to the amount of blood he had lost. Edward's eyes fluttered open and shut several times, and his breaths were short and ragged. His already pale skin had turned a shade paler, and was ghost white. 

Oswald frowned deeply, pinpricks of worry stabbing at him like needles. He needed to get Edward back to his apartment quickly. The man needed immediate medical treatment, though Oswald knew he couldn’t take him to the hospital. He’d be put back in Arkham Asylum quickly, and he knew they wouldn’t help him there. He also knew if he turned Riddler in he’d make his hit-list, and Oswald did not want that. He’d much prefer to stay on the criminal’s good side. Maybe the man would offer him protection or something nice in return for his efforts, though Oswald wasn’t counting on it. He didn’t expect anything from Mr. Nygma, and merely wanted to help the poor man. 

“Don’t worry,” Oswald spoke softly, his tone soothing. “I’ll get you somewhere safe, and you can rest there. Just hang on. We're nearly there.”

With that reassurance, Edward gave Oswald a small, delirious smile. His eyes flickered shut and he passed out in Oswald’s arms as Oswald frantically raced to get back to his apartment.


End file.
